Pentecost 5 Yr C

In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks harshly, acting cold and indifferent to the responsibilities of family and work. But more than being cranky, I think Jesus is giving us a primer on the cost of discipleship.

As we meet up with Jesus today, he James and John are traveling through a Samaritan area, a region considered unsafe, inhospitable and unclean to any self respecting Judean Jew. The Samaritans had no use for the Jews and the Jews, for the most part, had no use for the Samaritans…. So… of course… Jesus seeks shelter and hospitality there. And, of course, he doesn’t get it. Appalled at the rude treatment, John and James offer to take a page out of the Old Covenant prophet book and rain hellfire down upon them—kind of an “if they don’t love you and treat you with the respect we feel is due you, then we will obliterate them from the face of the earth. An eye for an eye. This must have exasperated Jesus….the old way was the exact thing he was trying to change. The old way of rules and regulations, had, instead of bringing people closer to God, taken God’s beloved even farther away. Jesus was sent to turn the whole thing upside down. And yet, still, they don’t get it?

Perhaps seeing this time of frustration with his ardent supporters as an opportunity, a couple of people make their pitch to Jesus about how they would be great disciples.

But, Jesus tells them, being my followers is not that easy, for to be a true disciple means carrying a heavy load, it means giving up some things which you hold dear, it means, risking an awful lot.

While the words Jesus uses are harsh-- the message is clear: if you follow me, you will lose much of what you hold dear. Following me is going to hurt.

Being a disciple, following the way of Jesus is not easy, it can be confusing and often it is very unsettling.

It can be scary.

This difficult stage is set at the outset of our Gospel when we hear: “when the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to Jerusalem.”

That sentence, no matter how many times I read it, sends shivers down my spine. Whether it is close to Holy Week or on a lazy summer morning in late June, Jesus setting his face for Jerusalem is unnerving and I want to shout “NO, don’t do it. “

Don’t do it.

For we know what this means---he is heading to his death. That this God in the Flesh sent to us by an adoring God will be rejected, betrayed, tortured and killed.

You know, some days its all too much-----days like today when we’ve had a successful Strawberry Festival, we’re out of school and we’re packing for vacation--and we want to skip the betrayal .the trial, the agony and the death and just get right to the empty tomb, to the glories of Easter.

The disciples, on some level, must have felt the same way.

John and James knew that once he set his face for Jerusalem all the talk about loving your neighbor as yourself and blessing the peacemakers would be put to the test…

They figured, once Jesus set his face to Jerusalem, the only thing that was going to get them through was a miracle.

But Jesus knew differently, he knew that the only thing which would save anyone---himself or his followers -----wasn’t a miracle, but faith.

And it was his efforts to get his followers to deepen their faith which made him sound so harsh. But he knew the only way to get through the worst of times was to have a sturdy and abiding faith. [PAUSE]

Faith. That’s the key. Faith.

Faith is not about sitting in this beautiful setting among wonderful people praising a gracious and loving God.

That’s worship.

Worship is what fuels us as we go out to do the work God has given us to do.

And that work?

That work is faith.

Faith is what makes people volunteer at the Food Pantry. Faith is what makes people say yes when asked to serve on Vestry or coordinate the Strawberry Festival or attend Episcopal Peace Fellowship Meetings.

Faith is what all of you do every single day.

Faith is what makes us greet “the other “in our midst even when it may be uncomfortable or unsettling.

Faith is when we stand up and say no to injustice, intolerance and inhumanity.

Faith is when we tell others the things they don’t want to hear.

[Faith is when we take the strength garnered through worship, the nourishment taken from this altar and go out into the world living life as a follower of Jesus.

Living a life that may not win us friends, but will garner us brothers and sisters. ]

Living a life of faith is being scared, unsure and confused yet doing it anyway.

Faith is believing that God so loves us that God will never leave us. Faith is saying, God loves me so much that I am going to step out into the world determined to leave this earth a better place than how I found it.

Faith doesn’t make the journey any less painful.

The faith of James and John couldn’t stop the events of Jerusalem—the crucifixion---just as our own faith can’t stop the cruelty and injustice which surrounds us every day.

What faith does do, though, is make those injustices intolerable to us.

What faith does do is give us the courage to stand up to those injustices—wherever we see them and say, this is not ok.

James and John didn’t want to go to Jerusalem, they knew what awaited Jesus there. But their faith in Jesus propelled them to follow him. All the way to the cross.

Their faith couldn’t stop him, neither can ours. Jesus will go to

Jerusalem-- but faith, when we really trust it and when we really let it have its way within us--- gives us the courage and the stamina to make it to the empty tomb.

Jesus knew that following him was costly.

But he also knew that it was worth it. +

Dignity's Showdown with Demonization Pentecost 4 Yr C

+Earlier this week our Presiding Bishop was preparing to celebrate and preach at Southwark Cathedral in London when she received a communiqué from the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office asking her to not wear her mitre while at Southwark. Her mitre, the Bishop’s hat, is nothing special just a symbol of her office. No words she preached, or sacrament she celebrated would be less effective without her wearing it, but the principal of the request—that if she didn’t look like a Bishop then somehow the Church of England could pretend she wasn’t a Bishop---is ludicrous. Bishop Katharine is a duly elected, consented and consecrated Bishop in the Episcopal Church—she is our chief pastor and primate---she is the face of our church to the world.

And Rowan Williams, this week, asked that face to hide.

Because the Church of England is embroiled in great debate over the election of women to be Bishops in their own church and because the Anglican Communion as a whole is embroiled in debate and dissension over the Episcopal Church’s election and consecration of openly gay Bishops, the Archbishop of Canterbury afraid of our disagreements, afraid of our differences, afraid of change, attempted to relegate our Presiding Bishop to some second class of Bishops, he tried to diminish her.

But he failed. You see Bp Katharine knows that a mitre has NOTHING to do with her being a Bishop. She knows that by removing it he was the one who was looking intolerant and absurd, not she. And so with grace and dignity, she fulfilled her promised appearance at Southwark celebrating and preaching at their Sunday Eucharist last week, while carrying the mitre and never mentioning the controversy, never casting a stone.

It’s difficult to hear today’s reading from Galatians and not wonder if Bp Rowan has forgotten some fundamental tenets of our faith.

Paul writes, “for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. ^... ²⁸There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

But I don’t think the Archbishop is all that different from the rest of us: he’s fearing change and appears wary of those people who are different than he. We all do this from time to time.

This is such a core human trait that all of the major world religions preach welcoming the stranger, healing the sick and caring for the poor, treating all of God’s children as the beloved they are.

Because we all need reminding. Because in theory it all sounds great----sure I respect the dignity of everyone, I understand that there are no differences under God, that we’re all equally cherished children of God…..

But then we’re walking down the street and a street person, someone who is afflicted by the internal demon of mental illness or addiction heads towards us, or sits among us in our pews and suddenly that welcome doesn’t feel so warm, that stranger seems a little off putting, we wish, in our hearts of hearts, that they would just…..be less different.

Adhering to Paul’s admonition that there shall be no difference between slave or free, male or female sounds really good in theory but, when put into the practice of our daily life, it becomes more difficult.

The different, the new, can be very stressful. Especially in the church. It was difficult when women were first invited to participate in the life of the church by serving on vestries (which women couldn’t do until 1970), by being ordained priests (1976) by being consecrated Bishop (1989) and finally by being chosen Presiding Bishop, 2006. It’s stressful when new members join us…we’re thrilled they’re here but until we all get to know each other it can be awkward. Especially when they sit in our pew, or suggest we do something differently…...

Change is difficult.

But Paul makes it pretty darn clear: there are no dividing lines in the Kingdom of God and there’s no room for division.

We must accept every single human being as the precious child of God they are. No exceptions. But we think of exceptions all the time. [Paul certainly didn’t mean HER …..or HIM, or that group….]

It would have been easy for Jesus to walk right by the Gerasene Demoniac. He could have, like so many of us do, just cross the street when the crazy homeless, smelly guy came bellowing toward us. If it got bad enough we could call the police, if it had gotten bad enough Jesus could have had his disciples deal with this man and his demons. BUT HE DIDN’T. He didn’t because he knew that beneath all the fear and frothing, all the screaming and yelling that man was a beloved child of God, waiting to be healed.

Paul is clear in his Epistle, Jesus is clear in the Gospel and Bp Katharine was clear in her actions: there will always be people with whom we disagree. There will always be people whom we fear, there will always be people who, on some level, wish that we would go away but God, as he did with Elijah in today’s readings from Kings, will not let us run for long and God will not let us hide….because God, in gracing us with this life, has also given us a great responsibility: to refuse to let the differences between us, to let a fear of the unknown, to let our resistance to change, keep us from offering healing and grace to one another—those we know and those we don’t. Those with whom we agree, and those with whom we don’t.

God has told us, Jesus showed us, St. Paul told us and Bp Katharine showed us: this is a broken world and only when we work together, only when we stand above our differences and disagreements, are we really living Christ-filled lives.

Today is World Refugee Day. Here in Buffalo we are blessed to have many refugees living among us. Here , for generations, people fleeing danger, fleeing torment, fleeing oppression, have found safe haven in Western New York. We, as a community have welcomed these strangers, embracing them and making them safe. In honor of them and remembering the work of Christ and the words of St. Paul please stand and join me in the Prayer for Immigrants and Refugees which you’ll find in your pew. May we, like Bp Katharine, stand above our fear of difference, our resistance to change and live out our baptismal covenant by respecting all whom we encounter, no matter who they are or where they’re from. Let us Pray:

A PRAYER FOR REFUGEES AND IMMIGRANTS

Blessed are you, God of all nations.

You bless our land richly with gifts of the earth and with people created in your image.

Grant that we will be stewards and peacemakers who live as your children.

Blessed are you, Lord Jesus Christ.

You crossed every border between divinity and humanity to make your home with us.

Help us to welcome you in refugees, immigrants and all newcomers to our nation.

Blessed are you, Holy Spirit.

You work in the hearts of all to bring about harmony and goodwill.

Strengthen us in human solidarity and in hope.

All-loving God,

grant us vision to recognize your presence in our midst,

especially in the stranger among us.

Give us courage to open the door to our neighbors

and grace to build a kingdom community.

Amen.

(The Episcopal Church, Migration Ministries, 2010)

Shedding Shame and Embracing Love: Pentecost 3 Yr C

+I know the reading from Kings was a little hard to follow this morning, so let me sum it up for you—Ahab is a spoiled brat who, because he was King, figured he could get whatever he wanted, just by asking. He wanted the vineyard next to his summer home but when the owner said no, it wasn’t for sale, Ahab didn’t push the issue. While he was a spoiled brat kind of King he wasn’t all that assertive. But when Jezebel, his wife got wind of this, she flipped out and proceeded to manipulate and threaten her way to acquiring the land for Ahab. Pretty brutal stuff and a behavior which any normal person would label shameful. But people like Jezebel and Ahab don’t feel shame. Because to feel shame suggests caring what others think. Rarely do Kings and Queens care what other people think.

Shame is insidious. It eats away at us and before we know it, we become so mired in self-loathing that it can take years to dig ourselves out. Therapists across the globe make a living from those of us beset by shame.

Jesus had no use for it. Shame was, to him, a worthless emotion, a waste of time, a false wall we put up between God and us.

Shame is a shame…because shame keeps us locked up and shut down.

Shame is at the root of so many self destructive behaviors that, in twelve step groups, recovery focuses on shedding shame---confronting it, admitting it to God, to yourself and to another human being. And then moving on, living a life free from torment.

Shame is paralyzing. We can be so caught up in the shame of letting someone down---or worse---that we can’t move out of it. It weighs us down. To move out of it, to step out of the morass of shame, requires both great courage and tremendous faith.

The woman in today’s Gospel had: both great courage and tremendous faith.

Let me set the scene a bit. In Jesus’ time, a dinner, such as the one Luke describes, had the guests seated—well reclining really-- in couches lined in a semi circle around a banquet room. The servants would scurry about behind the scenes, out of view. Other people, beggars usually, would be invited in for a portion of the evening, to take their shot at getting a handout or two. This is probably how the woman gained entry. But instead of seeking a handout, a scrap of food or a few coins, this woman boldly walked in and dared to touch Jesus, bathing him in aloes, cleansing him for whatever would come next (the other evangelists place this Gospel on the cusp of Holy Week, interpreting her actions as an anointing ritual, preparing Jesus for his impending death---but Luke places this episode much earlier in Jesus’ ministry.)

This behavior was incredibly risky for the woman---at best she would be further ridiculed and rejected by society, at worse, she would be arrested and put to death.

This woman, in encountering Jesus, knew that she was sitting at the foot of love and forgiveness and that nothing---not even that wall of shame around her, the judgment of the world, the scorn of the host, the whisperings of the others in attendance----would keep her from the source of love. She had such faith and such trust in God that she was able to let go of her shame and sit at the foot of forgiveness. And by doing so she was healed—she was freed from the bonds of guilt and shame. Through her own outpouring of love for another she was washed in love herself. Her giving of love freed her to accept the love of God through Christ. By giving love, she received love. Shame blocks the light of Christ from our lives. Shedding that shame, brightens our life because the light of Christ is given full access to all corners of our being---illuminating the darkest corners of our souls, where we store our shame. When we hold onto our shame, we block that love—it can’t break through unless we are willing to set our shame aside.

That’s the real lesson in all our readings today:

We must be willing to love freely and without restraint. By shedding our shame we will, like the woman in today’s Gospel, open ourselves to receiving the free, abundant and unrestrained love of God as given to us in Jesus Christ.

Likewise, we must be willing to shed all the hurtful thoughts words and deed we inflict upon others—words and actions we use to shroud others in shame.

Only when we free ourselves from shame—the shame within us and the shame we throw upon others—are we able to receive the full bounty of God’s love, a love which was promised to us at our baptism.

The cleansing waters of baptism open us to the Kingdom of God.

Those promises made today on behalf of Sophia at this very font, the promises we all made—or had made on our behalf--give us all we need.

The cleansing waters of the baptism, the seal of chrism on our foreheads and the promises made through the baptismal covenant is the perfect antidote to shame and doubt and fear and sin.

You see, we don’t earn the love and forgiveness of God, it’s a grace bestowed upon us at baptism.

A grace which will wash over Sofia Rae is a few moments.

So, no matter what Sofia may encounter in her life, no matter what we have and will encounter in ours---no matter how far any of us may stray from the love of God, that love is never removed. If , like the woman in today’s Gospel, we have faith then all our human foibles, all our miscues, all our sins won’t keep us from the love of God.

The only thing-- the only thing-- which keeps us from that love, the light of Christ—the love of God in the flesh-- is us--our own doubt, our own fear and our own shame. So, on your way up to the altar, to be fed the food of eternal light and life, dip your fingers into the font and remind yourself of the healing, forgiving and enduring love of God.+

YR C Pentecost 2

Today the Second Sunday after Pentecost is our first Sunday in what is commonly called, in church parlance, ordinary time. Ordinary time is that time in the church year when we aren’t accounting down to Christmas or Holy Week and we aren’t counting away from Easter Day. Ordinary time is the regular steady week in and week out passage of time, which takes us through the summer and fall. It ‘s Ordinary. But its not mundane, it’s not boring, it just isn’t extraordinary. We all have extraordinary moments in our lives. The birth of a child, meeting the love of our life, seeing an incredible performance in the theater or at the symphony. For some of us it’s a spectacular vacation, an incredible bike ride or run---regardless of the specifics, our extraordinary times are, when we look over the whole of our lives fleeting, brief moments in time. Our life, the bulk of it, happens in ordinary time. Regular day in and day out life. But,as I said, ordinary isn’t mundane, it isn’t drudgery…for it is within the ordinary days of our lives when our faith, our relationship with the Holy and Undivided Trinity and our living out our faith in community can really take hold. It’s when we take the wonders of Christmas, the joy of Easter and the thrill of Pentecost and let it settle into our lives. It’s when the rubber of our faith meets the road of our life. And, if we’re serious about it, if we are attentive to living out our faith in all we do, extra-ordinary things will happen---amazing events will happen upon us as we pass through the ordinary times of our lives. Today, as we settle into Ordinary Time, we hear stories of ordinary people living through pain and loss, which, through the grace of God, turns into extraordinary grace. The dead are returned to life, the outcasts are given hope and the impossible becomes possible. Within the ordinary, we get the extraordinary. Today we begin a several week dip into the First Book of Kings, with special focus on the actions of Elijah and his response to King Ahab’s pagan practices. A horrendous drought has come over the land as Elijah encounters a widow and her son. Now it’s important for both the Hebrew scripture reading today and our Gospel, to know the significance of widows in ancient culture. A widow was the poster child for outcast. A widow, especially if she didn’t have a son to care for her, was generally left to beg on the street, competing with dogs for scraps. The most famous widow in Scripture is probably Naomi, whose daughter in law Ruth risks her own security and future to stand by her deceased husband’s mother. Widows don’t have an easy go of it. The widow in our reading from Kings is struggling with a famine and she is at the end of her rope, realizing that she and her son are going to die, when Elijah asks her to use her last little bit of meal and make him a cake. This ordinary woman listens to this crazy man and, inexplicably, gives him the last of her food. This act of extreme faith leads to a seeming unending jar of meal feeding her household for days on end. A happy ending until her son, who had survived this multi year drought and famine is taken ill and seems to die. A turn of events straight out of a TV melodrama, this shakes both the widow and Elijah to their core. In his own mourning and sorrow, Elijah prays and cries out to God and the young man is returned to life. In the ordinary life of a widow in ancient times, comes an extraordinary man who did extraordinary things in the name of God. This regular woman in the midst of a very painful yet very familiar event in the world of poor people—then and now-was attentive enough to say yes to crazy Elijah the Tishbite and by doing so, the grace of God broke through the ordinary and wrought something extraordinary. Ordinary time gives us an extraordinary opportunity to knit our faith into the fabric of our daily lives. These past six weeks at Good Shepherd have been full of activity and excitement and hubbub. After the glorious reception you all gave me on my first Sunday, the completion of the floor refinishing in Jewett Hall, the amazing renovations in the rectory, my moving into the rectory just last week and finally yesterdays’ beautiful and moving Celebration of New Ministry have provided a fair share of extraordinary days. Now it’s time to use all that energy to catapult us into sharing the Good News with one another and the world around us. Today we begin the settling in of our life together. We’ll get to know each other and our faith stories; we’ll break bread together at this altar and around fellowship tables in Jewett Hall and in our homes. We’ll attend the theater together, we’ll serve at Friends of the Night People, we’ll work in the food pantry, we’ll welcome the members of our community who come through our doors, using our space to meet, to heal and to dance. Today, we begin the ordinariness of our lives together. The ordinariness which, if we are attentive, will bring us extraordinary moments of grace, tucked in the midst of our daily lives. Our faith may get a shiny new coat of paint each Christmas and Easter but it’s during these regular days of the year that our faith gets its workout. So let’s get busy, let’s be attentive and let’s invite the grace and truth of God as shown to us through the varied and mysterious workings of the Holy Trinity to surprise and delight us throughout these, our ordinary, yet so very precious days. Amen.